


Rest

by kabrox18



Category: Destiny (Video Game)
Genre: I'm Sorry, LAYS DOWN...., M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-05
Updated: 2017-04-02
Packaged: 2018-09-15 03:46:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9217196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kabrox18/pseuds/kabrox18
Summary: Saladin needs a nap. Shaxx is angry.[Really though, is anyone surprised that man is angry?]





	1. Chapter 1

“You think you can fight Fallen without any training? They’ll put your head on a spike.” He glares down at the pair, a warlock and hunter. Freshly resurrected--often degradingly termed _kinderguardians._ They both shrunk away, mumbling something as they skittishly dart around him, keeping nearly a meter of distance between them and him. He growls and shifts his weight again, one foot to the other, to his heels and forward again.

“As if the darkness isn't scary enough, you’re frightening them off from your Crucible as well.” Shaxx says nothing, instead choosing to keep his gaze locked off to the side, toward the Vanguard-- _away_ from that familiar voice.

“If they want to run, they can join Dead Orbit,” he eventually snaps in reply, still not looking at the elder Titan. He gives a low, dangerous noise at the friendly slap to his armored chest, and narrows his eyes behind his helmet at that easygoing smile.

“Ah, you always were stiff, Shaxx,” Saladin says, amicably. The larger wants to snap out _for good reason,_ but can't get around the red eating his vision. Just seeing him smile in a time like this makes Shaxx want to rip something large in two.

“What are you doing here?” He grits out, “I thought you were dealing with SIVA?” He can't help but revel in the way the smile fades from his mentor’s face in an instant.

“It’s been taken care of,” Saladin says slowly, shifting his grip on the helmet resting on his hip. His eyes turn up to scrutinize the garish white-and-orange faceplate, nose wrinkling slightly. It's set crooked--one too many broken noses. Shaxx flexes one hand resting on his hip, contemplating adding another.

“Then why are you here? Is Efrideet handling the Banner?”

“That she is. And without the looming threat of SIVA hanging over us--” Saladin shrugs, an expression of amusement flitting over his features, “I have nothing left to do. I thought about sleeping, but I think if I slept, I wouldn't wake up, Ghost revival or not.” Shaxx huffs, head jerking slightly. He's an irritated bull, cooped up with nothing to do but babysit cowardly Guardians who’ve only resurrected once or twice. Saladin knows the feeling--too many inexperienced warriors come into the Iron Banner only to leave ashamed and frightened. “How goes the Tower?” He wants to get the larger man to loosen up.

“It's been in worse condition. Everyone here is still breathing.” Strike one.

“In times like this, that's not always all that matters. We’ve conquered a great force. A few, actually. Let yourself breathe easy.”

“If I do, nothing gets done, or if it does, it isn't done _right._ ” _Strike two._ He feels slightly put-off by the way he still counts off Shaxx's agressions and mistakes.

“Ah. The old adage. If you want something done right, do it yourself.” The younger Titan growls and Saladin sighs, features sagging into a weary, exhausted expression. “Alright, fine. I came here because I can't sleep. The--the night terrors have come back…” he trails off, fingertips rubbing anxiously at some indiscernible seam in his helmet. Shaxx snorts, a rough noise, and looks to Arcite across the short, broad hall.

“Keep working. Delegate messages to the Postmaster if needed.” The frame looked up, eye blinking dimly.

“Affirmative. Is that all?”

“Yes.” With that, one rough hand grabs a hold of Saladin by the shoulder, leading him through another small hallway to the places all Guardians slept and stayed when not working.

“What are you doing?” The Iron Lord snaps, eyes widened slightly. There isn't an answer, but they stop in front of a door. Shaxx’s ghost, a quiet thing, flits out to open it. They step into a spartan quarters--only a bed and bathroom, doors to a small closet, and a nightstand with drawers fills the space. Shaxx nudges the senior Titan in, then swipes the door closed. “Who’s room is this? Why are we here?” The younger just points to the bed.

“Lie down. I'm going to help you get some sleep.”

“That sounds like a threat.” Saladin sets his helmet down anyway, eying the businesslike way his student treads into the bathroom. There’s noise like someone pawing through drawers, and he eases himself to sit on the bed. His knees and back cramp and creak in protest, but he grits his teeth and swallows the aches. His ghost, a green-and-gold bulb with extended fins atop and below it, tuts and shakes its eye at him. He shakes his head in return, face pressed into an annoyed squint. Footsteps return to the bedroom and there’s grumbling, something that sounds like annoyed swearing.

“You're going to sleep in your armor?” He finally demands, accented voice much closer than Saladin had anticipated. He jolted, hands closing around a nonexistent weapon, eyes going wide. Shaxx’s far larger hands grab his wrists, tugging them out into the air.

“I didn't plan on sleeping,” he grumbles, relaxing as he’s let go.

“If that's a euphemism, then no. I didn't plan on bottoming for you.” Saladin, stunned with the words, gives a small snorting laugh. He’s stopped though, when an awl and screwdriver are dug out of a minimal toolbox, set to work on removing his grimy, locked-up armor.

“It's a wonder you can even move like this,” his student mutters, digging dried mud and packed dirt out of the seams and locks in his armor, undoing each with care. Pieces drop off into a pile near the bed; it’s a bizarre feeling, moving without the burdening weight of plating. Before long he’s down to the leathery underclothes most Guardians don, and Shaxx dusts him off lightly, pulling him out of his thoughts.

“Are you going to bathe me and feed me as well, like the old folk in the City?” A long silence--Shaxx just sits there, kneeled between the armor and Saladin. “Well? Is that a yes?”

“I don't know,” finally comes the rumble. “Do I need to?”

“Of course not.” It's indignant, and Saladin stands, masking the pain from the action by quickly walking off into the bathroom. Shaxx, being who and what he is, follows closely. The elder eyes him through the mirror, the way he hangs quietly in the doorway. “Can I help you, Shaxx?”

“I just want to make sure you don't hurt yourself. The Gap was harsh to all of us--after all these years I'm surprised you can still walk with all those injuries.” There's a tense silence, and the younger jerks back a little, a huff escaping him before he settles back against the doorframe.

“I can handle myself,” he finally says, eyes meeting where he knows his student’s are.

“Fine. But I offered to help.” He turns and leaves, and Saladin is struck with just how much of the doorway he took up. It didn't surprise him, not really--Shaxx had always been burly, broad-shouldered and tall. He was just enormous all around, outclassing even other big Titans like Zavala. It was one of the things that made him such an excellent warrior, something that gave him unmatched versatility in the field.

Shaxx, though, he was something else.

The thought stuck with Saladin as he cleaned himself up, as well as contemplating sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now Shaxx needs a nap, and nobody is angry.  
> ...  
> okay, maybe Shaxx is just a little grumpy, but that's why I love him. :D

The day has dragged on, few Guardians coming through the hall. Arcite continues its work anyway, mostly silent, save the constant  _ tap tap tap  _ of its typing. Shaxx fights a yawn all the way until he sighs, blinking slowly and looking toward Eris Morn. She had shuffled back, sliding down the wall into a seated position, those haunting green eyes gone to sleep. Even Cayde, energetic as he was, had sprawled halfway onto his map, falling asleep. Someone--Ikora, likely, had put a chair under him and a blanket over him. Zavala was seated as well, off in one corner in an old recliner. The warlock Vanguard herself was still standing, hands folded as she looked out the window sedately.

Some Guardians claimed she never slept, but Shaxx had a feeling she just slipped a few winks into moment like these, when nobody would notice. She was crafty like that.

The thought made the grouchy old Titan snort with amusement, Arcite looking up and blinking its ruddy eye.

“Sir, you look tired. Is everything alright?”

“Yes, I'm fine. Just sick of being idle.”

“Ah.” It blinked again, looking back down. He sighed and moved behind his desk, pulling out a tray with slats in it, setting it atop the counter. It had labels for  _ bounties _ ,  _ missions, _ and  _ gear order slips _ . Once he was satisfied, he sunk into the overstuffed leather couch set against the wall, humming at the feeling before shifting to swing his legs up. His calves propped neatly on one arm, he leaned back to drop his head onto the other, hands lacing together over his chest. He yawned again, this time not fighting it quite so much.

“Hmm… Arcite, don't let any Guardians bother me,” he drawls, and the frame chirps an acknowledgement. With that, he closes his eyes, dropping into a well-deserved nap.

\------

Saladin walks in, noting how quiet the Tower was. Typically, it was bustling with busy Guardians, darting about to complete their business. Now, hardly anyone was here--only a lone Hunter, picking a box up from the Postmaster. The frames, naturally, were all up and about still, the gears that kept the Tower moving like a well-oiled machine. As he moved along, though, it became clear that nearly everyone else was asleep. Even the Cryptarch was laid out in a lawn chair, sleeping peacefully under the stars. He moved down the central stairs, seeing Crota’s bane tucked into a corner, clutching that rock of hers close. He kept walking, straight to the Vanguard; Ikora smiled to him, the only one awake.

“Evening, Saladin,” she says softly, and he looks over the other two quietly.

“Thank you for keeping an eye on them,” he replied, although he’s not fully sure why. She merely pats his shoulder lightly, a friendly greeting he knows to be common between warlocks. He gives her a nod and turns to leave the three of them be, finally noticing the discrepancy in the hall.

Someone, a certain tall, enormous, garishly-armored  _ someone,  _ is missing from his place standing beside his desk.

Saladin’s first reaction is to raise his eyebrows; the next thing he does is turn to Arcite 99-40, Shaxx’s personal frame. It's dressed in a furry, thick collar, and even has horns affixed to either side of its head like its owner. 

“Arcite, where is Shaxx?”

“Shaxx is behind the desk. He asked not to be disturbed.”

“I won't disturb him. Thank you.” It simply nods, resuming typing. He smiles the tiniest bit as he comes around the desk, glancing over his student laid out on his back, slumbering away on a too-small couch for his massive figure. Even over the tapping of Arcite’s typing, Saladin can hear the massive snoring coming up out of that chest. It sounds like the low, earthy rumble of an impending avalanche, and it's almost relaxing to know Shaxx is sleeping well. He looks so peaceful, hardly moving other than the slightest jerk of fingers every once in awhile, or tiny movements in his legs. 

_ He’s dreaming, _ Saladin muses, his small smile growing at the thought. It's almost endearing to see the Crucible handler in such a state, so opposite as it is to his normal one. He looks to someone nearby--an engineer, probably--and steps closer, keeping his voice low in order to avoid waking Shaxx up.

“Is there a blanket near here? I want him to be comfortable.” The engineer nods and smiles, going to a crate and pulling it partially open. A blanket--nondescript and grey--is pulled from inside and offered to him. He nods in thanks and flicks the blanket open, moving to drape it lightly over his student. “There. I hope you feel better after you get some rest,” he murmurs, face still crinkled with a tired smile. Once he’s satisfied, he turns to leave, treading back up the steps to the Tower’s plaza.

\------

He awakes to the dim yellow lights he’s installed, paler yellow beaming in from behind him. It throws everything into sharp, bluish contrast, and he yawns, sitting himself up slowly. A plain grey blanket falls off his front and he looks down, fingers curling in the fleecy material.

“I don't remember putting this here,” he grunts, and looks around. The engineers he knows that stopped by are gone, finished with their work; Arcite is still in its place, tapping away at its console.

“Good morning, sir,” it comments, looking up to him.

“Morning. Did anyone come through here? Why’s this blanket on me?” It chirps softly, seeming--for want of a better term--amused.

“Lord Saladin Forge. Asked where you were, then got a blanket from one of the engineers. Left shortly after.” He sighs heavily and brushes it aside, moving to pivot and get his feet on the ground. A few tokens and slips are in his tray--he’ll deal with those after he gets food. His Ghost zooms into his peripheral vision; he looks up and it comes to a stop over his desk.

“Mistress Ikora said she got you breakfast, delivered here to you. Said it was ’something to help you feel better’.”

“Hm. Thank you.” He nods, but the bulb chuckles. 

“Ah, don't thank me.” He rolls his eyes at it, standing and wincing at his popping, creaky joints.

“Damn, I'm stiff,” he grumbles, straightening and stretching a bit.

“That couch isn't big enough for you,” comes a rasp, and he jerks his head over in surprise.

“Hmph. Morning, Saladin.”

“Good morning. Sleep well?”

“Well enough.” His mentor shakes his head, coming face-to-face with him. Those damnably soft hands come up, gently resting where his shoulders meet his neck. A few good squeezes in the right spots and Shaxx drops his arms, sighing and leaning down, head dropping against one of Saladin’s armored shoulders.

“You  _ should _ go sleep in a bed, but I know you'll get annoyed at me if I try to get you to.”

“I slept enough.”

“You just justified my point,” he says, chuckling lightly.

“Darkness take you,” Shaxx mutters, hands settling on his teacher’s hips lightly. He could almost fall asleep here, leaned against Saladin.

“Mhm, keep telling yourself that,” comes the reply, hands kneading away the achy rigidity of his neck and shoulders. He sighs, closing his eyes and contemplating putting his full weight on the smaller Titan,  _ just _ to annoy him.


End file.
